


Let the Faith Outfox the Fear

by newisalwaysbetter



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Canon-Typical Injury, Cuddling, Established Relationship, F/M, Facial Shaving, Feelings, Fluff, Flynn needs help, Hurt/Comfort, Sweetness, fluff And whump, good ones, lucy is sad, whump with feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-29 00:35:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18215792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newisalwaysbetter/pseuds/newisalwaysbetter
Summary: Flynn's dominant arm gets injured, and he's frustrated that he can't keep up with his personal grooming. Cue Lucy helping him shave.(S2/3 fluff with feelings. Good pain.)





	Let the Faith Outfox the Fear

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy your garcy feels, my friends :)  
> Title is from "No Reward" by Bad Books. Warnings for mild mentions of blood and injury. This is a prompt fill, come send me requests at to-hell-with-oblivion on tumblr :)

Of the many great and small humiliations inflicted upon Flynn in the last three years, the inability to shave may be among the least significant, but it ranks just behind Wyatt among his his greatest annoyances. It’s Rittenhouse’s fault, of course, as is everything, but Flynn has to grudgingly admit he shares some of the blame. Pushing Lucy out of the way of the assassin’s knife had been second nature, but now Flynn has a dead right arm for his trouble. 

(Not that he regrets it, of course–he’d have lost both arms if that’s what it took.)

Denise says that he should recover fully if he doesn’t make it any worse, so he’s been temporarily sidelined from missions. Flynn had protested, but Denise had shut him down with, “You can come back on these missions when you can shave that scruff off your face.” So here he is, alone in the bunker which is all too like prison, while Lucy joins Wyatt, Rufus, and Jiya on a mission to Appalachia. It’s crap, but at least it gives Flynn plenty of time to practice shaving with his left hand.

“ _Shit,_ ” Flynn curses when the razor skips over his lip and cuts into his chin. The razor drops from his clumsy hand into the sink, and Flynn fumbles for something to wipe the blood currently spilling down his chin. But there’s no rags or anything around, so Flynn is forced to go into the toilet stall for some paper. He’s struggling to use only his left hand, and the frustration and despair mount hotly in his chest–if he can’t even do this, what good is he, how can he be any good to them, to  _her–_

It’s unmistakable, the sound of the bathroom door opening. Flynn sinks to his knees with defeat in the bathroom stall, knowing anyway that they can’t fail to see him.

“Flynn?” Lucy says.

He swallows. A thousand excuses fly through his mind, and are dismissed; there’s simply no dignified explanation for him to be kneeling in their filthy communal bathroom, half-shaved, face messy with soap and blood. He settles for wiping his face on his shirtsleeve before he sheepishly steps out of the stall, trying to look anywhere but at her. 

But Lucy doesn’t ask what he was doing, and he doesn’t ask where she’s been. Instead, she exclaims, “You’re  _bleeding,_ ” and crosses the room to cup his chin. She smells like cold and mountain air but her touch is warm on his skin, and Flynn stands still and lets her touch him how she wants, as he always has, as he always will.

“You were trying to shave,” Lucy concludes with a sigh, and Flynn feels shame suddenly at disappointing her, but having her this close reminds him of why he has to get better quickly, at everything. She touches the cut on his chin, and Flynn’s jaw clenches at the reminder of his inadequacy.

Lucy must assume she’s hurt him, because she takes her hand away. Flynn catches it in his, and hesitates for a moment, dark eyes on hers, before he presses a kiss to her open palm. Lucy sighs again, but this time there’s a tired smile behind it.

“Want me to help you?” There’s something playful in her smile. Flynn looks down and opens his mouth to say that it’s no good if he can’t do it alone, but Lucy distracts him by backing him up against the sink so that their hips press together. Flynn purses his lips in a thin line to control himself, which Lucy takes as uncertainty. 

“What, you don’t trust me to do a good job?” She frowns. “It’s not my first time shaving  _anything,_  you know.” 

(And if Flynn’s heart stutters at the thought of that, of her shaving  _other_  parts, well, he’s already going to hell for worser things.)

But she seems genuinely tense, and he can’t have that, so Flynn leans in close, letting a smile crinkle the corners of his eyes, and murmurs, “I do trust you.”

“Good!” Her smile twinkles. “Hold still.”

He does so as she soaps up the unshaved half of his face and cups the other cheek to steady her hand. She works intently, biting her lip in concentration, and Flynn can’t help think that for every indignity Rittenhouse has inflicted upon him, he is a lucky man to have this moment, to be able to watch her with abandon. He does so now, dark eyes fixed upon her face.

“Done,” Lucy whispers, her breath against his chin, and she looks so serious that Flynn can’t help pressing a kiss to her forehead. She exhales.

“Thank you,” he whispers. He sees, too late, that her eyes are shiny with exhaustion.

“Want to sit down?” He says softly, and Lucy nods. Her eyes are wet, so he takes her hand in his uninjured one and leads her to the side of the bathroom, where a metal bench runs along the wall.

He sits, but Lucy is still glancing nervously at the door, as if she hasn’t been touching his face for the past ten minutes, so Flynn takes her hand in his and runs his lips along her knuckles. “Are you all right?”

“Fine, just–tired.” Lucy climbs into his lap, careful of his injured arm, and drapes herself around him with a sigh. Flynn would ask what was wrong if he didn’t already know the answer, so instead they sit together in companionable silence while two of Flynn’s fingers rub a slow circle onto her hipbone. 

Finally, Lucy tilts his face up to look at her. “Did you try to do this because of Agent Christopher? What she said about you shaving?”

“My self-esteem is not  _that_  fragile,” Flynn lies drily. “I know I’m hardly any use to you all like this.” He lifts his injured arm. “Still, I wanted to believe that there was  _something_  I could do alone–that I wasn’t completely useless.”

“Flynn, you don’t have to do anything alone.” Lucy wraps herself around his head, stroking his face. “I know you want to protect us, but you have to let us help you too.” She touches his injured arm with such gentleness that it breaks his heart. Flynn buries his nose in her collarbone. “You do so much for us already, so what you can’t do alone–” Lucy touches his cut face, and when she speaks, he can finally hear her smile. “Let’s do together.”


End file.
